"Do You Know? (feat. Coolzey)"

05:55

Lyrics

(Coolzey)
Tearing at the bottom of the trash bag
Trying to get the good shit before they toss it into the landfill
Staying till the end of the last keg
You never understood that that was my name upon the handbill
Playing at a house party, playing at a dive bar
Might pull a George Brett, rock a little pine tar
You just stare, with your putter snare no par
Best MC that you ever heard so far
Go far, just like a well-flung Frisbee
Coolzey is back with an axe jack, you miss me?
Kiss me on the bloody lips, ‘cause I’ve been eating kids
Feeling really good now, because I’ve been beating kids
Cheating kids, taking all the candy got a sweet tooth
Document my dopeness just in case you need proof
No booth, record my vocals in the bedroom
Shut off my celly to obtain the max headroom
Just a mere flesh wound, man you only grazed me
Drink a 30 pack with my main man Lazy
Public School Records is the label that pays me
Still looking for an MC that amazes me
Like Psycho Les, Big Daddy Kane, and Thes One
Insight, Biz Markie, and Edan
Lord Finesse, Greg Nice and MCA
The Ol’ Dirty Bastard and Roxanne Shante
Ill Bill and Prodigy, Fresh Prince and Akbar
Godfather Don, MF Doom and Chuck D are
Probably the ones that paved the way
For a brother like Coolzey to enter the fray
So make way, ‘cause I see red and I’m charging
Fucked around in school, drew the pictures in the margins
Of my notebooks while I was taking notes
Told you in “Director” that I was counting votes
Website is updated every other month or two
Sometimes I can’t tell pitch black from navy blue
Baby, who told you that life would be easy?
It’s 2007 with Coolzey and BTB

(Foots)
So, do you know what you’re going through?
Do you like this style of rap that I’m showing you?
The way I flow for you?

(Wockenfuss)
From OR to IA we dial in the frequency
And Z’s got his cell phone, he’s dying to speak with me
Sucka MCs and CAC, the crews when we threw down
Now Coolzey’s rollin’ solo when he cruises through town
The Buttery Lords got literal at their last gig
Told BP Fresh to break a leg and he snapped it
And I’ll be lighting mics like a torch and we carry it
Swinging the cord, we rope ‘em in like a lariat
So here’s the full function of some words in a tight verse
You’re so locked down you should be wearing a striped shirt
The thrill of the syllables, I’m not holding ‘em back
I’m killing all the filler, yeah I’m folding it flat
So take your place and make haste, ‘cause I got a story to tell
With ways to make plays like I was Ken Oberkfell
Check my velocity as I detail the moves
And take it back to the Mecca like I’m CL Smooth
We’re traveling salesmen and the words are our wares
Chalk me up on the big board ‘cause I’m moving my share
The name is Wockenfuss, it’s on my business card
Got you stuck in reruns like you were Crystal Bernard
Every jam I play, another notch in my fanny pack
I hit a bad patch but the sanity’s back
We got an APB on a Uostwis R Dewoh
You’re starting off with Greek Town? Better pick me up an gyro
‘Cause my banter’s so enchanting I can still get real
And spiel like the Real Deal With Bill McNeal
So here’s the top story from today’s big broadcast:
I’m lost as Ned since the day that Maude passed
It’s twenty aught whatever, me and Z in collab mode
We tightened up the spikes and we’re trampling mad toes
My mental capacity? Yeah, as far as that goes
My dome’s so big I should play for the Astros

(Coolzey)
Jerks whole networks evaporate through time
At a faster rate than the human eye can navigate
Elaborate plans are cold laid and executed
While exuberant fans’ love for music is deep rooted
I sleep zooted when I make a new hit number
In my headphones on repeat while I’m in deep slumber
I keep underestimating the value of humility
But paradoxically, I don’t take pride in my ability
Lyrical agility is laudable
Rhyming hip hop over tracks that is audible
Excitable, bitable, ‘cause even the best did
Please kid, your album CD should be rewritable
So I could dub it over with some dope Dr Dre shit
I gotta admit, I’d rather listen to my mix

(Wockenfuss)
The mix with Sticks that makes the kids just pitch fits
With more ways to get you than a pitcher who switch hits
So get this-while you’re coming in last place
I’m playing 3rd Bass, giving MCs the gas face
So let me make sure I’m making myself blunt
I’ll clown you then I’ll pound you like I’m Nelson Muntz
Not exactly the Juice Crew, it’s just him and me
Coolzey and BTB dropping the symphony
I’m conducting the proceedings, you can call me the maestro
My scan is panoramic, got it all in my sights so
My rhymes are anti-static, there’ll be no dead air
I’m rocking here, there, and everywhere
I get loose like 3-5-7 from Oaktown
The way I broke it down you should know by now